


My Life According to My Scars

by The Gleeful Dragon (Origami_Roses)



Category: Original Work, original work - biography
Genre: Family, Gen, True Stories, being sneaky, bending the rules
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-12-30
Updated: 2019-01-07
Packaged: 2019-09-02 16:46:50
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,995
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16790824
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Origami_Roses/pseuds/The%20Gleeful%20Dragon
Summary: These are (mostly) true stories from my Dad. He's quite a character, and has often talked about writing his life story under the title above. I really doubt he'll ever actually get around to it, so I'm transcribing the stories he tells me (he loves to talk, and he is his own favorite subject) and posting them here. They are not in any particular order, much less chronological. My dad is not "politically correct" unless he's being facetious; he's vulgar at times but never malicious; I haven't made much effort to clean up his language (a little bit here and there). I will be changing people's names unless I have gotten their permission to use them, but otherwise the events are as recounted by the crazy old fart who lived them. (Love ya, Dad.)





	1. In the Beginning...

I, David Jeffery, being born of Goodly Parents, do set pen to paper to record the events of my existence. Having accumulated a great many scars over the course of my life, I have chosen to tell my story through their stories. Please see the attached front and back nude sketches with numbered arrows referencing the scars in question. (If the sketch is missing, ask Aunt Ruby if she "happened" to include it in her 'genealogy collection'...) 

Born in 19** , my very first scar was that common to all humanity, so I shall not bother to record it here beyond noting it's existence. My second scar is common to all male members of my family, so I shall similarly omit the details thereof. 

My third scar was collected as a toddler and, to the best of anyone's knowledge, was obtained by tripping and landing on a shard of glass. My mother had taken my two older brothers up the canyon to go fishing, and taken me along to keep an eye on. While my brothers tramped around in search of a good fishing spot, I played near where the car was parked. I wandered around the far side of the car, and when I came back around, my mother had the shock of seeing blood streaming down my face from the long, clean cut that had somehow been inflicted along my nose and down my cheek, barely missing my eye. She threw me in the car, called for my brothers - who didn't answer - and started the drive back to town, figuring my brothers would be fine fishing on their own for a couple hours, as they were wont to do. _{Author's note: This was a few decades ago when kids were assumed to be reasonably able to not get in trouble immediately upon lack of parental supervision, and no one was going to call CPS or the cops over a couple pre-teens being out fishing on their own. The only reason Grandma had been along at all was to drive the car. It was a few more miles out to the lake than "reasonable walking distance".}_

About halfway back to town (and, not coincidentally, to the hospital) Mother came up behind someone going veeery sloooowly. Presumably some old fogey. She honked and flashed her lights, but they wouldn't speed up or pull over, and every time she thought she'd have a chance to pass, they'd just sort of drift back over enough to close the gap. By the time they hit town and two lanes where she could pass, she was none too happy and I had bled profusely on the seat. _{Author's note, again: this was well before car seats were a thing, much less legally required. ...Actually, it was before wearing seat belts was legally required, too.}_

After that, we made good time to the hospital, where I was cleaned up and stitched up, and none too happy myself. My brothers were none too happy, either. Not about being left at the creek for the day. That didn't bother them at all. But once they heard the story, they flat out said it was a good thing they didn't know who'd been in the slow, obstructive car as it would have been very tempting to give them some what-for. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is pretty much what Dad once told me he'd planned as the first chapter/ introduction to his intended autobiography, and a slightly different version in included somewhere in a family history/newsletter/collected anecdotes thing that may or may not still be in existence in someone's attic or basement somewhere. (Knowing my family... probably. Possibly more than one.) The sketch mentioned would never have been made - it was just part of the joke and a bit of a dig at my very proper and slightly prudish Great-Aunt (an avid genealogist), about whom the accusations were patently absurd, and therefore became the punchline.  
> Hope you enjoyed, and I'll be getting more written up soon.


	2. hide it in plain sight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> One of many scrapes my dad got into... and back out of. And one of many times he sneakily pushed the boundaries of "acceptable".

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A bit of background, to make the story more understandable: I grew up in a family with religious prohibition against alcohol of any sort for any reason. My Grandparents (on both sides) and my mother were very strict about it. My dad - rebel that he is - took a more relaxed stance on the topic. There are a few occasions that just call for a can of beer....

We were going to a family reunion at my parents' farm - me, the wife and our little girls. We had had car trouble and were running late. Instead of arriving mid- to late-afternoon as planned, it was well after midnight when we got up between Milford and Delta. Somewhat north of black rock range, train tracks run right alongside the road, separated from it only by a barb wire fence. Right about in the center of this long empty stretch, the road dips down and runs along the bottom of an old lake bed for several miles before climbing back up. As we went down the dip, we scared three antelope. They bounded off the road, hit the fence, and came back across the road. We clipped one, killing the antelope, and breaking one of the headlights. Because of how the car was wired, this effectively killed all the lights. The change in elevation is only about 20-30 feet or so, but that was enough. We couldn't see the lights of the next town which would otherwise have been visible across the mostly flat desert. We were stuck in the middle of nowhere on a pitch black night with no lights inside the car or out - just a sky full of stars. In the darkness, I searched the car for a flashlight (or a match or anything to provide a bit of light) so I could assess - and hopefully fix - the broken light. No such luck. I did, however, find a pocket knife, and figured since there was a freshly dead antelope right there, I'd provide a bit of venison for the reunion. The West Desert antelope are barely the size of a goat; just the right size for hanging from a fence post to drain after I gutted and cleaned it. Didn't even touch the ground. I knew it would be fine until I could come back the next morning to claim it. I'd call the Carp'n'Coot Cops (aka Fish and Game Warden) for permission, of course, but had to get somewhere with a phone to do so. _(Editor's Note: Cell phones didn't exist - were not even on the horizon - at this point in time.)_

We crept slowly along through the blackness, knowing there were cows in the area which would cause far more damage to the car than a little antelope. When a vague lump loomed near the road in the darkness I slowed waaaaay down. It was a bush. And the next time... it was a bush. And the third time ... it was a bush. And every other time, too. I hadn't known there were that many bushes out there in the middle of the desert. It was a long and lonely road, but occasionally we saw headlights of a car coming up behind us, and I would pull off to the shoulder. As the other car passed (probably doing 90 mph), I would pull back on the road and follow as long as I could see them, knowing there were no cows on the road at that point. Never could catch up, starting from a near-stop as I was, but got a bit further down the road each time before losing the "guide". Eventually we made it to the "up" dip and could see the lights of Deseret in the distance. I was still going slowly, slowly. Being able to see the town wasn't the same as being able to see the road. As we continued and shadows of bushes got larger, then turned into trees, I knew we were getting close to the curves going into town.

We came around the curve into Deseret, and just ahead was the town's one street light, marking the turn to Oasis and then on into Delta - it was the only safe road for us to take with no working lights. Going straight at the light would take us to the highway; not worth risking. Once we turned, the road to Delta was mostly straight. Very few obstacles to avoid when building a road across a fairly flat desert, after all. We continued slowly and carefully, just the same as before,but with the no more passing cars to show the road ahead for a bit. When we got to where the road curved again, I stopped, got out, checked that the road was clear for a bit (and made sure I knew exactly where the curve was), got back in, drove a bit. Repeat until we got closer to town. As we approached Delta - and my parents' farm where the reunion was - the glare from town lights made it too hard to see anything on the road. So I pulled over and we sat by side of road. Crap. To be so close, and now get stuck with no recourse... Someone passed, and stopped. For the first time that night, someone came back and asked if we needed help. I explained the situation, saying "I can only go by your tail lights, so don't go too fast." The guy drove slowly to lend us his lights. With no headlights on our car, though, he couldn't tell if we were behind or not and gradually pulled ahead. When he got to RR tracks and went up and over, we lost him. Fortunately, he had gotten us near where I needed to turn in for the home farm. I flashed my (non-existent) lights in thanks before carefully rolling down the dark driveway where I parked. My wife and I got the kids in the house and into a bed. They'd slept through most of the ordeal, but I was sure glad it was over! 

After filling the family in on our little adventure over breakfast the next morning, I went to see to the car. My nephew Steve reached in the shattered lens, and popped the broken bulb out. That was all it took. The rest of the lights would work. An easy job... but not one to do in the dark of night in the middle of nowhere with no resources if I accidentally slashed my hand open on broken glass. Not even a band-aid.

As was usual at family reunions, Dad had a big job he wanted everyone's help with - this time it was tearing down a large shed. He was not at all happy about me wanting to go back to scavenge the antelope. I sneaked out with my niece Tammy after getting permission from the Carp'n'Coot Cop ("Hell, it's just a damn liddle antelope. go for it"). I knew Tammy wouldn't get in trouble for leaving as she was not allowed to help with demolition, what with being a girl and all. _(Editor's Note: this was a few decades ago, and my Grandparents were very much traditionalists. Gender Roles were definitely a thing with them)_ Since there were more than enough baby sitters to watch the little ones (my own among them), she wanted to go on an adventure. I obliged and we went to retrieve the antelope. It had only been hanging for 8 hours or so, and was up off the ground. It was fine.

I knew that since it had no time to age properly, it would be tough and very gamy. So, after we got the antelope, I stopped and bought 6-pack of beer at the store, (the "other" store. The one my family didn't shop at, from which said family would not likely learn of the forbidden purchase.) I showed Tammy how to clean the carcass, and since there was not all that much time till dinner, put the pieces in the pressure cooker with some beer. Then I added garlic and onion to mask the beer smell and remove the wild taste. Before too long, the house smelled of onion, garlic, cooking meat... and no one recognized additional smell of beer. It was a smash-hit at dinner. Everybody loved it and wanted some of the left-overs to take home. ^__^ And I'm packing up containers of meat for them all, thinking "heeheehee... if only they knew. (and if Dad picks up on this I'm SO dead)" 

After dinner, we moved on to games and other festivities. Once everyone was occupied, Steve came up: "I have a question."  
Me:"ok"  
"About that antelope..." aw, shit... **furtively looks both ways** as Steve continued "... did you cook it in beer?"  
**looks both ways again, knowing full well it's a very blatantly conspiratorial action** "...yeah. You think anyone else picked up on it?"  
"Not as far as I know"  
"Don't help them"  
**conspiratorial grin** "Your secret is safe with me"  
...and has been for the last 40 years.  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For those wondering why my dad didn't just stop in Deseret to fix the light, since it was a simple fix: It was after midnight at that point. Deseret was a small, one-horse (well... one traffic-light) town. In those little, middle-of-nowhere places, everything shuts down at night, and street lights... pretty much didn't exist then. (At least in that area.) Without the traffic light, he may well have missed the turn off completely. Creeping along was the only real alternative to waiting till dawn on the side of the road.


End file.
